by K.V. Wylie

"Water that is too pure has no fish."
Ts'ai Ken T'an

Spock of Starfleet, Spock of Vulcan, whose personal life had undergone a big change, asked to take some leave.

Kirk was taken aback. McCoy had just asked for the same thing, though a few days earlier. In fact, the doctor had already left and his temporary replacement was on board.

After mulling it over, Kirk ok'd Spock's request. The first officer had racked up a lot of overdue leave and regulations required that he take it one way or another. Kirk had no idea where McCoy had disappeared to, but he assumed that Spock would head off to Vulcan.

Spock had decided to follow McCoy. The doctor didn't know this. If he'd suspected, he probably would have taken better care to cover his tracks. The shuttle connections had been
easy to trace.

McCoy had headed for Xerebus, a man-made moon in orbit around a star prone to solar flares and erratic movements. Whenever the sun's hydrogen spit, a dome would cover the day-side of Xerebus, creating a perpetual night over the entire satellite. The darkness made the streets and bars impossible to police, so the local constabulary stopped trying at those times. Visitors understood that anything could happen; accordingly Xerebus attracted an ungainly and underground sort of visitor.

McCoy's shuttle had docked at the main port. After a relatively small bribe, Spock learned that McCoy had booked overland transportation. Spock rented another flyer from the same company and hacked through the dashboard locator chip into the mainframe.

As Spock neared the doctor's destination, he considered that he wasn't sure of his reception. There was the chance the doctor had not travelled alone. The company's computer didn't reveal the number of occupants in the aircars. If McCoy was alone, it might be exactly what he wanted.

McCoy had parked beside a tavern bearing a half-lit sign reading F--len A-gel. The engine was cold; he'd been there for a while.

The bouncer eyed Spock curiously but stepped aside to let the Vulcan pass. Spock pushed open the door and was hit by bedlam.  

Huge, furry creatures at a table by the door were arguing, pounding their drinks and paws loudly as they growled overtop of each other. Two Andorians at the next table were watching them, antennae bent forward in interest, and three Ferengi in a booth were watching the Andorians.

A lithe, Deltan woman walked by Spock. He felt his body's reaction before he saw her. She gave him an interested smile, but he moved away between the tables and towards the dance floor.

He paused, eyeing the couples and trios dancing to strange, lilting music being played by a four-armed woman on stage. Her instrument was composed of several curled flutes coming from a single mouthpiece; her rhythm section was a rodent hopping on a snare drum.

Something with tentacles brushed by Spock. He felt a few stealthy probes. He grabbed one of the feelers with his Vulcan strength, just long enough to make his point. The tentacled creature promptly disappeared in the crowd.

He walked by the booths. Every one was occupied, and while all their occupants varied, their general dishevelled condition did not. Spock kept his eyes forward and pretended not to notice illegal transactions, illegal weaponry, and not-illegal-and-more-interesting sexual activities taking place both under and on top of the tables.

Coming from the flashing strobes at the dance floor, it took his eyes a moment to adjust to the dim light at the bar. When they cleared, he was startled to find McCoy on a stool only a few feet away. The doctor was unshaven, dressed in muted brown clothing, and holding a bottle of something questionable.

In a low voice, McCoy said, "Coming in here like that, you risk getting your Fleet-issued boots stolen, not to mention your Vulcan-issued ass kicked."

Spock had changed into civilian clothing except for his footwear. Outside of his boots, he owned only sandals.

"Yes, they're that obvious," McCoy said. "What are you doing here?"

Spock took a seat beside him. "I followed you."

"Yeah, I got that. Why?"

They were interrupted by the appearance of a large man who dropped onto the stool at McCoy's other side. He noted Spock. Then he put an arm around McCoy's shoulders and said, "Vulcan who?"

"No idea," McCoy said.

"I am S'Pell," Spock said. "And I was just going to buy a round of drinks."

The bartender somehow heard through the din and a line of bottles appeared down the bar. As Spock paid, he said to McCoy, "May I ask your name?"

McCoy was frowning at him and it took him a few seconds to respond. "Murray."

"I'm honoured to meet you, Murray," Spock said. "And your acquaintance is?"

McCoy gave him a what-the-hell-are-you-up-to look. Spock felt he could well ask the same in return. Spock would not pry into McCoy's private life. However, as the doctor's husband, he had a right to insist that those private activities not be conducted in such a disreputable establishment as this one.

When it appeared that McCoy wasn't going to answer, the large man said, "Lotar."

Spock gave him a formal nod.

Lotar eyed him, perhaps wondering if the Vulcan's courtesy was a way of making fun of him. Eventually he must have decided no, because he picked up the drink Spock had bought him.

A silky voice breathed in Spock's other ear. "Vulcan boy, you look lonely."

He turned. A woman (he assumed it was a she), part-lizard and part something he couldn't identify, smiled a pointy-toothed grin at him. He hadn't heard her approach. A glance down revealed why. She hovered just above the ground.

Her long tongue flicked over his ear. "Love your boots."

Her violet eyes and versatile tongue were not unattractive. Noting that McCoy had turned on his stool so that his back was to him, Spock remembered something his mother used to say – two can play this game.

He asked the lizard to dance. She glided with him to the dance floor. He put his arms around her; she put her tail around him. He discovered, belatedly, that that left her hands free to wander.

By the time he extricated himself and returned to the bar, he was quite ruffled.

And McCoy was nowhere to be found.

The bartender gestured at a booth at the back wall. "They went there. Lots of other chances here for someone like you."

"I prefer blue eyes," Spock said.

The bartender shrugged. "That's up to you, but his friend was pretty big."

Spock approached from an oblique angle. It allowed him to get a view of the booth before the people inside would see him. McCoy and Lotar appeared to be doing nothing more than talking, so Spock went up to the table.

"Murray, I am here to collect the dance you promised me."

McCoy and Lotar startled. Their hands came up from under the table.

Pretending not to notice, Spock added, "When your acquaintance was in the facilities, you agreed to one dance."

Lotar gave McCoy a puzzled look. The doctor was staring at Spock as if he'd never seen him before.

Then McCoy found his balance again. "That was in return for the Corlinian shirt you're wearing, S'Pell." To Lotar, he added, "Don't you think it's a nice shade of green?"

Lotar chuckled.

"It is a fair exchange," Spock said. "But the manner in which I give you the shirt is up to me."

"You can decide how. I'll decide when," McCoy said.

Spock held out a hand. McCoy took it and allowed the Vulcan to lead him to the dance floor.

The female and rodent band was playing a slow number, but McCoy grasped Spock's forearms in a way that would keep several inches between them as they danced.

"Spock, Lotar is half Nausicaan. They don't take well to being interrupted."

"Nausicaans do not take well to anything," Spock said. "Your choice of partner is peculiar."

"Hardly. Nausicaans are well known for their endurance."

Spock blinked. He'd never heard the doctor make even the mildest of off-colour jokes.

"Spock, what do you want? Just tell me."

"I hoped we could continue our last conversation."

"And it couldn't wait until I got back to the ship?"

"No, not since you decided to come here. You are part of a high family house and this is an unacceptable place for you to be."

"And you knew I was in this particular bar before you started after me?" McCoy said. "At least I'm in the corner. I saw the way that you and Miss Iguana were dancing in the middle of the everybody."

"Leonard, your friend is not safe company."

"Lotar and I have known each other for years and you may notice that I'm still in one piece. He even knows that my name isn't Murray," McCoy said. "Are you still brooding over what happened in auxiliary control?"

"I do not brood."

"You make everything so big. Sometimes sex is just sex."

"The way you aroused me was not simple stimulation," Spock said.

"How do you know? I could be that way with everybody."

Spock studied the doctor's face. "Are you that way with everybody?"

The doctor's gaze was steady but hooded. "And that's your business how?"

Spock nodded slightly, accepting the rebuke.

"Are you upset about how fast you came?" McCoy asked.

Spock blinked. "My people do not use such slang. The Vulcan word is fhy'lhi. It means realization."

"That is a nicer word," McCoy agreed. "It doesn't change my point. Besides, what does it matter how quickly you would have…realized? Let it go."

"I have had other intimacies. The way you touched me was different."

McCoy sunk into thought which, Spock knew, could be a bad thing.

"Spock, I don't know how you got from premature ejaculation to 'your touch was different', but it's an awfully twisted route."

"I do not suffer from premature ejaculation," Spock said. "My average duration is thirteen minutes, forty-nine seconds."

McCoy eyed the Vulcan. "At what point do you start counting?"

"Your ride is leaving," Spock said suddenly.

"What?" McCoy took a second before he understood. He glanced at the booth.

Another man had joined Lotar. They were kissing.

"It's been a while since I've seen Lotar. He hasn't changed much," McCoy said with a humoured smile.

Spock damped down a frown, but it hit full tilt across his face when McCoy returned to the booth and kissed Lotar thoroughly before introducing himself to the other man. When Spock got to the table, it was apparent that the third man was not a problem. McCoy, Lotar, and he were talking and joking.

"Vulcans no join," Lotar said when Spock squeezed onto an empty part of the bench.

Unsure what Lotar meant (either he didn't want Spock there or he knew that Vulcans usually limited the number of players on the field to two), Spock shot McCoy an inquiring glance.

The doctor ignored him and Lotar decided to as well. The third man, a striking-looking blonde human, held out a hand. "Hello."

Spock took the hand lightly, his mind shielded. Despite that, he felt a tug of attraction to the human. He silenced, wondering at it. He had been attracted to the female reptilian as well. Was the problem with him? Or was it the atmosphere? The air around him certainly seemed to be steeped in sex.

Under lowered brows, he watched McCoy. The doctor's manner was casual, even easy, despite the perceptible fact that Lotar was groping him under the table.

This was not the doctor Spock knew. On board the Enterprise, McCoy was almost as reclusive as the Vulcan. There had been no obvious women around him.

Noting the doctor's preference, Spock amended the thought to include no obvious men either. This exhibitionist streak was odd. But, thinking of Lotar, it was not new. McCoy had played
this game before.

If Spock were honest with himself, he would have admitted to envy at the doctor's ability to take a lover and move on. Spock had never mastered the technique. Sexual contact had always been accompanied by circumstances, responsibilities, considerations - things requiring awkward closure.

McCoy tugged Lotar's earlobe with his teeth and said, "I'll be right back." He stood and left the booth. Spock waited a moment, musing, and then slipped out after him.

The doctor had gone to the facilities. He was standing in front of a urinal, penis in hand, when Spock came up beside him, reached down, and closed his fingers around McCoy.

The doctor could hardly stop in mid-stream. He had to take the touch.

"Spock, what the--?"

"My name is S'Pell, Murray," Spock said as he kissed McCoy's rounded eartip.

"You must really want to get beaten up by a Nausicaan, S'Pell," McCoy muttered, but his voice dropped as Spock ran his tongue behind the doctor's ear.

A man at the next urinal looked over and grinned. Spock closed his eyes to shut him out.

He felt McCoy's penis start to harden under his hand. It occurred to him that he'd seen stalls when he came in. He opened one eye long enough to locate them and figure out which ones were unoccupied. Then he whispered, "Come with me."

He expected an argument, but the doctor followed without a word. They got to a stall. Spock locked it behind them, pushed McCoy into a sitting position on the edge of the lavatory, and dropped to his knees.

Spock was still holding McCoy's cock. He lifted it up and put his lips to the underside, but then he felt the doctor move him away.

"You shouldn't play around with sex," McCoy said.

"You do," Spock said, leaning forward and putting his mouth to McCoy's penis again.

"I'm not talking about me. You're going to have to live with yourself after this."

"It is my prerogative," Spock said.

"You're the only person I know who can use big words while his mouth is full."

Spock closed his eyes again. He wanted it to be only him, his desire, and a disconnected penis in his mouth.

He grasped the base of the shaft in one hand while he sucked the top between his teeth. McCoy, perhaps understanding the game, quieted.

Spock tasted an inviting, warm tang. He mouthed the tip, gently probing the opening, and then drew the head back in his mouth as his tongue touched the sensitive spot just below the

The shields in his mind frayed. He could feel McCoy's arousal, swirling to join his own in his illogical thoughts and pulsing neurons. His penis grew heavy between his legs and prickled against his undergarments.

He opened the fastening of his pants. His organ was wet with pre-seminal fluid. He wanted to push it into something, a woman, a man, that space between his pillow and mattress.

Against all instincts, he kept his hands away from it and stayed on his knees. His organ tingled. He knew it would be bright green and swollen, a sight that excited him. He wanted to rub it against the penis in his mouth that was throbbing hot in its own anger.

He sucked hard, a rough action that caused a gasp from above. Wetness flooded onto his tongue, a human taste rich with hints of iron and salt. The head flared, hardening and demanding, but he was stronger here. The cock in his mouth would submit when he wanted it to.

Spock abruptly drew off of it and ran his tongue lightly down to where his fingers held the base in a tight grip. He felt the testicles struggling to ascend under his palm. He opened his eyes. They were filled and tight. With his other hand, he pulled them gently, though the movement was still enough to cause a cry overhead. He drew them into his mouth, mindful of their sensitivity. He could feel his own testicles in tandem, aching to disgorge seed into the shaft. The pressure was excruciating.

He loosened his hold at the base, but just slightly, enough to be able to stroke upwards. A huge well of fluid appeared at the tip. He sucked it in, his mouth watering at the gorgeous, intimate taste. Then he covered the head of McCoy's penis with his mouth, holding it as deeply as he could while he began rubbing up and down the length, his palm moving violently over the fierce stiffness. Let it come, he thought as he worked the cock. Let it happen, that moment of intensity, of shuddering realization. He wanted it for both of them.

He continued his controlled, harsh actions until, suddenly, his shields disintegrated. Agony and uncontrolled need blasted through his mind. It wasn't an anonymous cock in his mouth anymore, but McCoy, bucking against him, unable to stop and yet, somehow, in the midst of the whirlwind, worried about him at the same time. He sent the thought back - I can take it.
Let go.

McCoy gave in and the hard release of orgasm swept from him to Spock. Spock felt volleys of hot, crisp seed in his mouth. He swallowed until he couldn't anymore. Then he jumped to his feet, taking McCoy up with him. He wrapped his arms around McCoy and crushed him against him while his cock shot over and over in what he was sure would be an unholy mess.

When it began to ease, Spock heard his own voice, brutal and yet euphoric at the same time, his groans coming from the bottoms of his lungs.

He quieted as it passed, and discovered that they were against the back wall of the stall, Spock's forearms skinned on the rough paint. Somehow underneath them, McCoy had managed to brace them with one foot on the lid of the lavatory and one hand on the handle, which meant that the toilet was flushing and flushing.

Spock pulled them back, supporting them so that McCoy could let go. They both remembered at the same time where they were and McCoy began to laugh.

In a whisper Spock could barely hear, McCoy said, "If we were anywhere else, we'd be arrested. How would we explain that to the captain?"

Spock's lips twitched in amusement. They twitched again when McCoy murmured, "I don't think you lasted thirteen minutes and forty-nine seconds." He glanced down at the stickiness on their shirts between them. "Unless you're going to say that wasn't your fhy'lhi or whatever."

"I said that was an average. I can go longer," Spock whispered back.

Surprisingly, there was some tissue in the dispenser. He began cleaning them off. Then they pulled their pants back up and McCoy said, "Ok?"

"Yes," Spock said, hoping he sounded so. He opened the stall door and stepped out.

There were several beings using the washroom. Two of them smiled at him, but the rest were uninterested. He and the doctor were able to leave with little remark.

Spock continued on outside to his flyer. He waited fifteen minutes, but McCoy didn't show. He wasn't sure if he expected him to.

He returned to where he'd rented the flyer and asked the attendant there to take a message for Murray.

"We're not an answering service," the attendant growled.

"Murray rented the other T-Seventeen," Spock said. He wrote the name of a rooming motel on a padd before adding a large tip to the rental fee. Upon seeing it, the attendant nodded.

"If I see him, I'll let him know."

Spock booked in at the rooming motel. He had just washed up and settled into the bed with the entertainment viewer when he heard a knock at the door.

"Who is it?" he called.

"Room service."

He recognized the voice. The bait - I can go longer - had been picked up. McCoy entered the room carrying a bottle of illegal wine.

"Did you bring Lotar?" Spock asked.

"Did you want me to?" McCoy asked.

"He did seem to have the gift of artful conversation."

McCoy laughed, then settled on the bed beside Spock and opened the bottle. There was a single glass on a beside table. As he poured, he asked, "Is there another?"

"We will have to share." Spock took a sip of the wine. It was cool and delicious.

"When I said I'd marry you, I didn't agree to spending nights together," McCoy said.

"You told me that before," Spock said. He took a longer drink, gave the glass to the doctor, and, with his chilled fingertips, touched the side of McCoy's face.

"I don't agree to be faithful," McCoy said, his voice a little husky now.

"Neither do I," Spock said.

"I mean, you're no Nausicaan. And you still owe me that Corlinian shirt."

Spock allowed a small chuckle. It felt good. And safe.

"Take off your clothes and you can have the shirt," he said and turned off the light.

When Spock woke, a few small rays of orange sunlight were coming through the thin curtains. The dome must be open, he thought. The inhabitants and visitors of Xerebus would have to return to being law-abiding. The night of anything goes was over.

McCoy was curled up next to him in bed, his face relaxed in the unconscious freedom of sleep. Spock wondered what it would be like when the doctor awoke. Would they be able to look at each other? Would they be uncomfortable? They had allowed each other some rather intimate liberties, including, Spock mused with delight and apprehension, McCoy allowing Spock to enter him.

There was some wine left. Spock took a drink from the bottle, moving slowly in hopes that he wouldn't disturb the doctor, but McCoy was like a cat-on-call. He was awake in an instant.

He gave Spock a tousled, warm smile before snuggling deeper into the pillows.

"Leonard," Spock said.

"If you've got regrets, Spock, swallow them down. We're big boys and we can handle this."

"I was about to say good morning."

McCoy lifted his head long enough to give Spock a quick look and say, "Good morning to you too. Go back to sleep."

Spock waited a moment before asking, "What are we going to do today?"

McCoy sighed. "Just five minutes more, Vulcan."

Spock waited.

McCoy, feeling the Vulcan's eyes on him, sat up. "All right. What are we going to do today?"

"I asked you first."

McCoy gave him a thoughtful look, perhaps wondering if Spock's question had a hook to it. "You're on leave and I'm on leave."


"We could do whatever we want."

"I concur."

"After we sleep in," McCoy said, emphasizing the last two words, "we'll get some breakfast and then leave this oh-so-lovely moon and go wherever we want. You in?"

Spock nodded. "Yes."

"Except Vulcan. We can go anywhere except there. Bad things happen to me there, especially that last visit. That was a doozy. I got married to this really serious, dull man."

With his usual straight face, Spock said, "I hear he has one noteworthy talent."

"Yeah? What's that?" McCoy asked.

"His new average duration is twenty-two minutes and nineteen seconds."

McCoy laughed so hard that Spock spilled the wine.

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